


You're Welcome, My Dear

by Starjargon



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Cause and Effect, Gen, Humor, Minor Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 04:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starjargon/pseuds/Starjargon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor has reasons why he thinks the way he does.  Series of one-shots.</p><p>Latest story: The other name the Doctor chose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Speak Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took him years to learn...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I love the Doctor with a family, and his very first companion. I’m thinking of writing a couple more chapters like this involving the origins of some of his more peculiar behaviours. Suggestions welcome. This is also my first attempt at light- heartedness so please review and tell me what you think.

He speaks baby.

His wife had forbidden him, all those many, many years ago.  She said he needed to learn how to understand even when there were no words.  He had heeded her, of course.  He couldn’t refuse her anything.  But, ok, sometimes he couldn’t help himself.

He would speak softly to his children, whispering words he could only hope they would understand, never expecting them to answer back.  And his wife was right.  After countless misunderstandings, misreadings, louder cries than the ones preceding, he realized he felt closer to his kids by reading their body language alone.  A different form of communication. 

Sure, he was still the Doctor, and had always had a loose relationship with rules, but he only tried to teach himself baby one or two hundred times.  Not many in the grand scheme of the universe.  His children, however, had taken his wife’s side and had early on developed the annoying habit of not always giving him his way.  He couldn’t get through to them.  Or they couldn’t get through to him.  Even when he entered their minds he saw only fuzzy images and colours, and he wanted WORDS.

He was sure they must be properly saying _something_ when they gurgled, or whined.  He secretly tried to imitate said noises when the missus wasn’t around, but those kids never let him get away with anything.  She, for all her high and mighty making him _learn_ and _communicate_ with his children, had an uncanny ability to seem to know everything he did and never failed to laugh at his secret attempts.

Too soon, he knew he had missed his chance.  His children grew and learned his own languages and he could talk with them in the old boring way that everyone else knew.  He surreptitiously attempted Baby again when his oldest grandson was born, then his granddaughter, and each one after that.  Still frustrated at this silly made up rule that he had to be out of the loop at some point, he all but gave up hope, resigning himself to the fact that he would have to stick to the rules and wait out this indecipherable phase of his descendant’s lives.

Then they placed _her_ in his arms.  And, though he loved all of his grandchildren equally, he didn’t think he had seen another child so beautiful since her mother.  She took his hearts away, and he felt almost a niggling sensation at the edge of his mind when he held her near.  He attributed it to a distinct fondness.

“What’s her name?” His wife asked as they cooed over the newest addition to their family.

“We’ve decided to name her after that beautiful delicate flower, Arkytior.”

The baby in his arms gurgled loudly, and suddenly the Doctor gasped softly, then began to chuckle to himself.  When they were alone a little while later, he leaned in and whispered to his fellow co- conspirator, having finally found someone who went along with his mad schemes.  It was then that he realized how special she would become to him.  Because he had unmistakably heard the newborn scoff at her given name, choosing an entirely different one for herself.  And, years later, when she was the only one daring and peculiar enough to run away with him, he made sure that was the name she was known by.

Yes, he speaks baby.  Susan had taught him.


	2. The Doctor Dances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He used to dance quite well. When he had the right partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I decided if I was going to properly going to continue this, I would have to give a name to another character, and since certain things are rather vague in the series, I’m going to say this is slightly AU, or at least acknowledge that I took several liberties with situations. Angst.

He allowed himself three days, every century.  Just three days to remember them, just so they would never be lost to the universe.  Once every 100 years, he would take out that music box from oh- so long ago, ask the TARDIS for those semi- solid holograms, and would lose himself to dancing. 

He expertly moved in time to the music, spinning and laughing and engulfed in the beats of his own hearts.  His feet skipped back and forth as he matched his sons’ rhythms.  His eyes twinkled as he skilfully twirled each of his daughters in time to the music.  His smile widened as he swayed to and fro, never breaking step with his grandchildren placed precariously on his feet, too young to fully keep up with him themselves.  The last day, though, was always fully devoted to _her_.  The embodiment of music itself she used to call him.  As they sashayed, twisted, tangoed, whirled, and waltzed back and forth, he would move gracefully and professionally as he soaked in the projection of what once was.  Then their song would end, the box would close, and he would be in lonely darkness once more.

He had always thought it unfair, that they should meet on her 12th life and his 1st, but he had cherished every moment with her as though there would never be another.  The day they permanently bound themselves to one another was one of the greatest in his long, long existence.  She gave him a key to each of her priceless ships- an intimate treasure and private joke between them, as they were not only broken but belonged in a museum- and he gave her a music box of a thousand melodies.  She would take it with them to every wedding, birth, regeneration, and celebration they went to for the rest of her lives.  It was programmed to play exactly the right song for every occasion, and many nights were happily spent learning or creating new dances for each one.

Each of his children had their own tune, as well as each grandchild, sibling, and parent.  But her- she was special.  Every time she opened the box, a song specific to her mood would play, and he always rejoiced in the mystery of what would come next.  She would open it after every silly squabble, every bad day, every frustrating argument he had with his superiors, and every time she was inexplicably happy.  He would gather her in his arms and nothing could ever be wrong in the universe.  When they danced, people always watched, amazed that such a clumsy man could be so nimble.  He would only laugh at their thoughts, entranced by his wife and her amazing ability to bring out the best in even her most inept student.  She was well named.

So he knew, as they danced at her behest in those precious final moments of her very last life, as he held her in his arms for the very last time, that this part of him would always be hers.  He could only ever be graceful with her, only ever allow the music to seep into his limbs when they were together, only ever be the envy of the room when it was as it was in these crucial, _final_ moments- her Doctor and his Professor, as he danced her to her sleep.

Years later, friends would always ask him to dance, and occasionally he obliged them.  He would be silly or downright ridiculous and they would all chalk it up to clumsiness or the awkwardness of that regeneration, none of them ever knowing or guessing the truth.  That once upon a time, the Doctor danced.


	3. You Know You Can Fix that Chameleon Circuit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A curious old man, his granddaughter, and a bouncy ball.

They had been running for so long now, and had seen so many things.  Though he was a bit adamant about observing, not interfering, she could easily convince him to “study” the different planets up close.  For scientific purposes.  Even convinced him they had to bring numerous artefacts onto the TARDIS, her name for his wife’s old ship.  They had stolen one of her two that were in the repair shop, and even though his wife had been forbidden to use it for quite some time, he was sure the necessary repairs were really just minor adjustments- details, if you will.  Besides, he was a genius.  He could fix anything.  Sooner or later.

From the moment he stepped onto her, he’d fallen in love.  He didn’t quite know the ins and outs of how to fly her, but he was getting the hang of it.  He knew how to get from one place to another, even if that other was not where or when he had originally meant to go.  And, the TARDIS herself was sentient and very smart.  She disguised herself wherever they went, ensuring more of a passive role in the history of the universe.  So what if they wobbled every now and then?  He assured his granddaughter she _was_ _meant_ to do that, though he suspected the truth was more along the lines of she _had_ _meant_ to do that. 

So it was that an adventuring spirit took the three of them off to see the universe.  After quite a few years they landed on Sol III, also known to some species as Terra, and to others as Earth.  The Doctor’s own mother had had a strong affinity for it many years ago, spending so much time there she considered herself one of its native humans.  When the doors to the (now) palm- tree shaped TARDIS opened, Susan was amazed.

“Where are we Grandfather?”

“Hmm.  Oh, Earth I believe.  Twentieth century.  1960s I should say.  America- in the land of California.”

“It’s wonderful! Shall we have a look around?”

“Of course, My Dear.  But first, remember the rules.”

“I’ll not change anything.  I just want to study this planet is all.  It fascinates me.”

“Quite right too.  Very well, where would you like to go first?”

Susan was very eager to see the flora of this planet, entranced by all the different colours and shapes of every plant she came across.  They came to a large market where they browsed fruits, vegetables, plants and flowers of every kind.  She would pick up random items and would taste them or smell them, then hold them out for her Grandfather to try.  He humoured her, soon collecting his own bouquet, which, he reasoned, it couldn’t hurt to take back with them.  Susan grabbed a flower and stuck it in her hair.  It suited her.  She tried to stick one in his, but he sputtered and whined, “No, no!”

When he saw her crestfallen face, he told her to pick out any of the flowers she wanted, and he would wear it, but _not_ on his head.  She perked up and immediately went for a solid leafy light green one, which she immediately pinned to his jacket.  She stepped back and admired her work, while he preened.  Suddenly, they heard an amused laugh behind them.

“Well, I must say I’ve never seen celery used quite like that before.”

Turning, they both looked at a man behind them, a smile still lighting his face. 

“Hm, well, who are you?  What do you know of it?”

“Celery? Only what’s fairly common knowledge I suppose.  Like, you eat it, tastes great with peanut butter, the usual.  Sorry, wrong field.  I’m a chemist, not a botanist. Name’s Norman. Norman Stingley.”

“Well, Norman, I’ll thank you to keep out of our business, and leave us to our whims.”  The Doctor began to turn away grumpily when Susan, embarrassed because of her ignorant mistake, leaned forward and asked-

“What is that in your hand? And how do you get it to keep returning to you?”

“This, oh, I call it a Super Ball.®  I invented it not so long back.  Well, sort of.  The rubber part. A toy company helped me run with it, and this is what we came up with.  It’s due to hit the market in a couple of weeks.”

“But what does it do?”

“It bounces.”

“That’s all?”

“Well, I admit it’s not as inventive as using a vegetable as a boutonniere, but I’ve been assured this will be the greatest hit since bubblegum.”

“Can I try it?”

“Now now dear, no time for that, back to the TARDIS.  Lots of other lands on this planet you know.”

“Here,” said Stingley, “Take one.  Think of it as an apology for laughing at you.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much.”

“Yes.  Well, let’s be off Susan.”

They took off to their stolen home, the Doctor still stubbornly sporting the vegetable on his coat, and Susan throwing the ball into the air.  When the ship got into the vortex Susan began to absent-mindedly bounce her new gift.  After a few minutes, the Doctor decided he needed to scientifically assess this novel toy as well.  Soon, Susan and he had made a game of it, seeing who could bounce it highest or the farthest around the console room.  They threw it around for hours, giggling as it hit bits and pieces of the old ship.  They continued even as the TARDIS landed, changing her camouflage to suit 1960s England.  They only stopped when the ball bounced off one of the controls and they saw sparks, followed by a hissing sound.

“Oh no, Grandfather.  Did we break something?” cried a distressed Susan as the Doctor inspected the damage.

“No, no my dear, it was always like this.”

“What is that?  Oh, the Chameleon Circuit! Are you sure?  I think we may have broken it.”

“Of course not. Don’t you think I’d know if I broke it?  I tell you it was always like that. Why do you think the old girl was in the repair shop, eh? No, it must’ve hit a sensitive part of the console. Yes.  But just to be sure I think we’d better put that blasted toy away, don’t you?”

“Yes, Grandfather.” Then, after a moment, she began laughing quite loudly.

“What’s this? What’s so funny?”

“It’s just that, it’s been an awfully amusing day.  Not only with this small ball that does nothing but bounce, but you’re still accidently wearing that vegetable I mistook for a flower.”

“And who said anything about an accident?  Perhaps I like wearing it.  Perhaps I shall wear it all the time, now what do you think of that?”

She just laughed, knowing the somewhat cantankerous man in front of her would never dare to do anything so ridiculous.  Well, not yet anyway.

And, he assured himself, the Chameleon Circuit wasn’t broken because of a bouncy ball in the hands of a young man trying to act old.  It was the repair shop’s fault, entirely.  Once they were out of this junkyard, it would cease being a Police Box.  Of course it would.


	4. What's in a Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor's mother has to find a way to entertain her energetic, rule- breaking son. Surely, if she takes him to that strange planet Earth, he'll stop wanting to see new things- right? However, once there, there is that pesky business of finding him a suitable Earth name.

They were arguing about their son again- not something very dignified for Time Lords of their status. As one of the ruling families of Gallifrey, others looked up to them for guidance. What did it say about them when their own very young son was one already one of the most notorious troublemakers at the Academy Prep?

Her husband was livid, disappointed yet again in their son's antics.

"Honestly, what exactly did he think he was trying to accomplish with those experiments of his?"

"He just said he wanted to make something different. See something new," she responded to her child- weary spouse as they marched hurriedly down the corridor, his fury evident in their brisk pace.

"New, new, new, always with the new! Why is he so fascinated with the different?! What is wrong with keeping the constant?! We have establishments for a reason. Because they work! Let him first learn to accept why things are set the way they are, _then_ he could try to change them should he so choose."

"I think that is the point, Dear. He does not like things the way they are- they are too dull for him. He is not a normal boy, Husband."

"No, he is absolutely mad! Always breaking rules, never sitting still for more than a few minutes at a time- always trying to run off!" She held him back before he could reach the corridor to their son's room, unwilling to let her baby hear his father's frustration with him.

A brilliant idea snuck into her mind- the mind of a Time Lady who had settled once, unwilling to force her child to do the same thing.

"Then let us give him somewhere to run," she gently tried to coerce her spouse.

"What?" he asked, confusion written all over his face.

"He has long been unhappy here- you know this, my Dear. Allow me take him away from Gallifrey for a while. Let him see an alien planet, meet strange new people. If he insists on breaking every rule on Gallifrey, let him be far _from_ Gallifrey. Then, when he has seen what other wonders there are in the universe, perhaps that will quench his wanderlust long enough for him to at least get through the Time Lord Academy."

The idea held a great deal of merit for the worn out father. Not only would his son cease being a constant source of embarrassment to him in front of his colleagues if he was away, he would gain a real appreciation of the superiority of the Time Lords once he was introduced to inferior civilizations. Surely, after seeing the primitive societies of other planets, his youngest heir, so curious like his mother, would finally be content to finish his education, then rise to take his place amongst his distinguished race. Perhaps someday he might even rise high enough to become Lord President. Even he held great pride for his son's blatantly brilliant mind.

"Yes, Wife. I believe that is an excellent idea. It will give you the chance for exploration I know you have always longed for, and perhaps smother our son's ridiculous craving for adventure. I shall help you with the preparations and shall await the return of you both with great anticipation," he proclaimed with a small nod, his long red robes billowing behind him as he turned to inform his son of his decision.

* * *

"Where are we?" asked the little boy holding her hand.

"A long way and time from home, my son," she announced, excitement coursing through her veins as she took in her first _real_ foreign planet.

"What's it called?"

"Our people know it as Sol iii. Other planets know it as Terra. The native life forms call it Earth."

"Are we going to meet any?"

"Any what, child?" she asked looking at her era- appropriate reading materials, trying to reign in her glee and urge to explore every alien artefact and creature.

"Any native life forms."

She looked down at his face at this statement, confusion and wonder in his eyes as he took in all the hustle and bustle around them.

"Son," she breathed out with a thrilled smile, "they are all around us. All the people- they are aliens!"

He looked up at her questioningly, then turned to inspect their fellow travellers more carefully.

"They look Time Lord," he said, with a bit of doubt in his voice and his young face.

"I know- but that is only external. From what I know, these people are millennia away from our race. They only have one heart, and they cannot even regenerate!" She did not mean for such an unfortunate underdevelopment to sound so cheery, but she had allowed herself to get caught up in the exhilaration of the new. Then, she realized as she allowed her smile to gleam widely, that was the point of this trip- she was no longer bound by the rules or expectations of her people any more than he was.

"What're we doing here?" he asked inquisitively, turning to take in as much of these fresh surroundings as possible.

"Exploring! Is that not brilliant? We are going to live as humans do! I will get a human job, we will go by human names, you will meet human friends- it will be great fun!" She was surprised to hear the amount of enthusiasm in her voice, and found she had even allowed her body to give a little hop at the end.

"Human names?" asked her very intrigued son, who she knew had always felt so imprisoned and suppressed by the expectations inherent in his own.

"Yes!" she actually squealed, relieved to have studied somewhat in depth this aspect of human living. "I have decided mine will be Sue. What do you want yours to be?"

"Ummm," said the little boy, caught up in her excitement before he blurted out giddily, "Xlouricalonzalirin!"

"No, son," she shook her head fondly, smiling at his look of utter enthusiasm, "humans do not have names like that. Especially in this time period. We are trying to fit in with the humans, not stand out."

"Oh," he proclaimed, not saddened, but pensive. "So, what is a human name?" he asked his mother, who was obviously a great authority on the subject.

"Well," she searched her brain, quickly and mentally distinguishing the male and female names she had read about before offering one to her child. "What about Christopher?"

He let his tongue roll over the strange sounds, widening his mouth as he repeated the moniker, before frowning and declaring, "No."

"What about Thomas?"

He repeated his process, posing as he said the name, trying it on as though it were a new robe.

Then he shook his head.

"Colin?"

"Nope."

"William?"

"Definitely no."

"Peter?"

"Uh-uh."

"David?"

Scowl.

"Patrick?"

Harrumph.

"Smith- no, wait, sorry," she corrected herself, even as he straightened up and looked at her.

"Wait- I liked Smith. It sounds good. Distinctive." He posed importantly, looking entirely like her husband in that moment. "Why can I not be Smith?"

"No, no- my mistake, love. Smith is currently only used as a surname," she corrected, smiling at his interest in the matter.

"Oh. But doesn't that mean I can still be Smith though?"

"Alright," she grinned in surrender as she shook her head at her Time Tot, "but we still have to find you a first name."

"Okay."

"Matthew?"

"No!"

"Sylvester?"

They were walking through the strange streets by now, both bending and twisting and stopping every few steps to examine as many new things as their eyes could take in, asking local passerby questions as discreetly as possible. They continued this name game for quite a while until suddenly, the young boy ran to watch as an officer in a uniform stopped to help one of the many children who had filled the road not so long ago. He was cleaning a small wound on a young girl's knee, his smile kind and his hands gentle, the girl's tears forgotten as he made her laugh. Of course, her ever- inquisitive son went to investigate everything the man was doing, watching with interest as he patched up the little girl.

Suddenly, her over enthusiastic boy, who had been having a conversation with that older- looking human gentleman, ran to her, grabbing her arm and pulling her over to where he had been.

"Look Mum! That's it!" He pointed to the small words on a sticker he'd been examining where the man had come from.

"Ambulance?" she asked in confusion.

"No, no- that's just a sticker! The man said that these words mean there's someone close by who can help people get better. That's what I want, Mum, to help people get better- just like that man did! Just look at the name- it's perfect!" He pointed his pudgy little finger once more, and a smile lit her face.

He was right. It was perfect.

And so it was, after finding a small, seemingly insignificant sticker on a ubiquitous Police Box in the heart of Britain, her child was inspired to help make even "ordinary" people better.

Yes, she reflected, as they settled in for their visit on Earth. _John Smith_ was a fitting name indeed.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "St. John's Ambulance" sticker would have signified/ still does signify First Aid knowledge and was in fact found on Police Boxes in the 40s and 50s. Fun Fact for those not caught up on their New Who- such a sticker was finally reintroduced to the front door of the TARDIS in Matt Smith's era, after being removed after William Hartnell's era. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.


End file.
